


Quick on the Draw

by hyperionne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Coming of Age, F/M, First Crush, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Harry Potter Next Generation, Next Generation Hogwarts Era, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Quidditch, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperionne/pseuds/hyperionne
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy keeps himself to himself. He's insecure and shy in a way that his peers often mistake for arrogance, and masks his growing anxiety with a mask of faux indifference. Comparatively, Rose Granger-Weasley has the temperament of a bull compressed into a tiny, four-foot-eleven body. She’s loud, broader than her height would suggest, and to top it all off Scorpius isn’t sure she’s grown since first year.Unsurprisingly, they do not get along- until The Incident: fifth year, post-Quidditch match, Slytherin Vs. Ravenclaw.-A story about the trials and tribulations of growing up, trusting other people, and everything in between.Scorpius/Rose; non-CC compliant.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Comments: 20
Kudos: 66





	1. A Clash With McLaggen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a Malfoy invites trouble. Scorpius does not run or fight back; despite their lack of interaction, Rose Granger-Weasley steps in to defend him.

Scorpius trudged through the mud, broom in hand, trying to ignore the feeling of his overgrown hair sticking to the back of his neck. He was sweaty and filthy, and probably long overdue a haircut, but he was happy: Slytherin had come out on top, beating Ravenclaw two-hundred-and-thirty to seventy in an unsurprisingly gruelling Quidditch match. It lasted longer than he would’ve liked, and he was almost cleared off his broom after a rogue bludger collided with his right shoulder, but he was feeling alright and they’d prevailed. In the end, everything worked out just fine. 

After huddling, celebrating with his team, and shaking the hands of their opponents, he was happy to slip off on his own to clean up. Even in fifth year - his third year of playing Quidditch at school - he still felt incredibly nervous whenever he took to his broom in front of a chanting crowd. Everyone knew his name and his family, much to his discomfort; fame and publicity always set him on edge. He much preferred keeping himself to himself, and enjoyed a close friendship with Albus Potter and their dorm-mates, sticking to a small circle of acquaintances to offset his notoriety. The last thing he wanted was to give off the impression that he liked being known.

He was quiet and kind to those who knew him, but still a Slytherin nonetheless, and a Malfoy to boot, so there would always be people looking for reasons to hate him: including one Connor McLaggen, sixth year Ravenclaw keeper, his upperclassman and opposing goalie. They didn’t interact very much outside of Quidditch, but Scorpius had heard Albus muttering about him once, after Connor loitered around the Gryffindor table with one of the Weasley cousins for too long to be comfortable. Scorpius never really paid him any attention, and avoided most of the Potter-Weasley brood despite his close friendship with Albus, so he saw no reason to interfere. 

That being said, he wasn’t expecting to find McLaggen waiting for him outside of the Slytherin cloakrooms. He slunk away before Slytherin had finished rejoicing and Ravenclaw had picked themselves up off the floor, absolutely sure that he wasn’t followed or overtaken. 

Still, he was nothing if not diplomatic. He squared his aching shoulders and smiled pleasantly, nodding at the hulking Ravenclaw- really, he should’ve gone for beater instead of keeper. That would get him out of Scorpius’ hair, mostly. “McLaggen,” he greeted, stopping a few paces away from upon realising he was blocking the Slytherin changing rooms on purpose. 

McLaggen sneered, but nodded back. “Malfoy.” 

For a minute, Scorpius hoped that might be all- an unpleasant but short acknowledgement of one another, with McLaggen perhaps waiting for someone else- the Slythern captain, maybe? But no. 

“What the hell do you call _that?”_ McLaggen spat, looking Scorpius up and down as if he’d just cursed his mother. He pushed himself away from the door and uncrossed his thick arms. “There’s no way you lot pulled your heads out of your arses so suddenly. We crushed you by two-hundred points last time, what are you playing at this time?” 

Scorpius frowned, taken aback by McLaggen’s sudden and drastic change in demeanour. He knew Connor’s father, McLaggen Senior, sometimes did business with his own father- mostly procuring Skele-Gro by the pallet for his local Sunday league Quidditch team- and he knew enough to know they did not get along. Perhaps that put a sour taste in Connor’s mouth, especially when he’d just been outclassed by a younger, scrawnier keeper, and a Malfoy no less. Scorpius was by no means bulky, rather on the long and lanky side, but he was still decent at blocking shots. He honestly thought McLaggen would be better at his job, just by sticking his massive body in front of the hoops.

He kept his head even when he heard the anxious murmurs of the Slytherin team crowding around them. 

“You win some, you lose some.” Scorpius offered with a nonchalant shrug, hoping that no one would notice how he gripped his broom handle a little tighter. “Come on, McLaggen, you should know that much. Sometimes, it’s just down to the luck of the day.” 

“Luck of the-” McLaggen hissed, eye narrowing, but then he stopped to peer over Scorpius’ shoulder. 

“Steady on, mate!” Albus jogged to Scorpius’ side and gave him a well-meaning clap to the shoulder. Scorpius chewed on the inside of his cheek and bit back a grimace at the flash of white-hot pain that wracked his collarbone. He glanced at Albus, and then to his left, as he was flanked by a mane of unruly copper hair that barely reached his shoulder. 

“McLaggen.” The girl frowned, and Scorpius recognised her as Rose Granger-Weaskey, Albus’ cousin and overall, the worst type of Gryffindor. 

It wasn’t that Scorpius intentionally avoided the Potter-Weasley brood, he was just unaccustomed to so many people so intimately aware of one another in one place, and so they made him flighty. Due to the sheer size of their family, the Gryffindor table more closely resembled a family gathering devoid of well-behaving brain cells and sensible adults, rather than a school dinner table, and Scorpius often wondered if non-Potter-Weasley Gryffindors felt overshadowed. 

From what he knew of her, Rose Granger-Weasley was among the worst of them. According to the stage whispers of Professors during breakfast (upon which Scorpius _did not_ eavesdrop; he simply existed near them at mealtimes), Rose was everything they didn’t expect from the union of her parents, but was instead everything they should’ve expected. Loud, headstrong, and somewhat temperamental, she did things her own way or no way. Gifted in Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts, but absolutely dreadful at Potions and Transfiguration, she was the bane of his existence in the classroom: either showing him up by knowing every answer by heart, or distracting him by being a complete disaster, he mourned the days Slytherin shared Potions back-to-back with Defence Against the Dark Arts alongside the Gryffindors. She excelled where he struggled, socially and academically, and so he quietly disliked her. Not that he would ever tell Albus; she was, reportedly, his favourite cousin. 

When she stood next to him, he realised that he had absolutely no idea what was going on. McLaggen had never confronted him before, and he’d never stood beside Rose either, shoulder-to-shoulder. He blinked at her, quite vacantly and stupidly for a second or five. He also realised she was quite short- he’d seen her with Albus at King’s Cross in the past, shadowed by her abnormally tall father, and her somewhat short mother, and supposed she’d taken after her in height as well as hair. Her position as Gryffindor beater showed in the confident set of her shoulders, and her broad stance didn’t look quite as strange as he’d expected on such a short girl. 

Perhaps, subconsciously, he didn’t like her because trouble followed her like a stray dog. 

McLaggen’s lip twitched upwards. “Malfoy, Potter, and Weasley,” he cackled like it was some kind of joke. “Not the kind of trio your parents would’ve hoped for, I’m sure.” 

“Come off it, Connor.” Albus rolled out his shoulders, playing off the tension like he couldn’t be more relaxed, like he wasn’t staring down a beefy sixth year from beside his best friend and cousin, whilst the younger members of Slytherin team hung back and watched with quiet discontent. “He hasn’t done anything wrong, it’s just a game.” 

“Luck of the day,” McLaggen echoed, like he wasn’t listening to Albus at all. “You’re fifth years, so you’re covering Felix Felicis in Potions- so that’s how you rigged it-” 

He skulks forwards again, and before Scorpius can wrap his head around his baseless accusations, he and Albus are stepping back out of self preservation. There’s a collective swell in the muttering around them, and Scorpius swallows down his nerves upon realising the Ravenclaw crowd are here now too. They’ve been shepherded into a circle of muddy, sweaty bodies and broomsticks that continue to block the door, stepping into the space McLaggen leaves as he stalks towards Scorpius, all craning for a better view of the action. 

Albus mutters an exasperated _"_ _Merlin’s Beard"_ , and holds up his hands in surrender; they’re not a threat, and he absolutely does not want to fight. Scorpius supposes it’s no wonder why neither of them are in Gryffindor. 

But as they step back, Rose steps forward, all four-foot-eleven of her standing rigid and firm as she plants herself right in front of Scorpius. He’s gobsmacked for a second, and supposes that it’s the thought that counts, but McLaggen would still have a clean shot at him from right over her head. His brain short-circuits.

He absent-mindedly wonders if she’s grown since second year. 

McLaggen hesitates briefly, but grins down at Rose. He looks wolfish and predatory in a way he probably thinks is charming, and Scorpius feels Al tense up at his side. “Come on, not you as well,” McLaggen fake-pouts, but Rose doesn’t budge. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. This is between me and Malfoy- not you, _Rosie-”_

He reaches for his wand, lightning quick to the pocket of his Quidditch Jersey, but Rose is faster than he ever could’ve hoped to be. Her arm snaps upwards as she clocks him right on the nose, smashing her fist against bone and cartilage without a hint of remorse on her face. 

“Call me _Rosie_ again and it’ll be your bollocks next!” 

McLaggen careens back in pain and drops his wand. There’s a collective gasp before the crowd erupts into shouts and jeers, and McLaggen’s teammates pull him away to lick his wounds and recover from the pain. Al runs his hands through his hair in disbelief. 

“Bloody hell,” he mutters. “Aunt Hermione is gonna kill her.” 

Scorpius pulls a face, and a story from his father surfaces in his mind. “I don’t know. Dad says she socked him in the nose, once.” 

All of a sudden, Rose is turning on her heel and grabbing Scorpius and Al rather roughly, pulling them along by the arms. She starts running and drags them behind the cloakrooms, vaguely heading in the direction of the castle. “We need to leave.” She tells them, bluntly. “Too many witnesses- McLaggen will tell McGonagall, of course, but we should get you to the hospital wing first.” She looks up at Scorpius, and for all his grace on the Quidditch pitch, he makes a fool out of himself by stumbling over thin air. Al cackles into the wind. 

“Hospital wing?” Scorpius mimics. She looks at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“For that bludger hit.” She explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but he hadn’t expected her to have noticed or remembered, not in the heat of the moment with McLaggen, but then she grins wickedly. “My knuckles kind of hurt, too. Wouldn’t hurt to have Pomfrey check them over- it was like punching a brick wall!” 

Perhaps that’s the first time Scorpius really looked at Rose, and saw her as an individual, rather than just as a Weasley or a Gryffindor, or his particularly annoying schoolmate. 

Either way, that was the first time he realised he was absolutely fucked. 


	2. Gratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius is fixed up in the Hospital Wing, and sets about clearing his debts.

The hospital wing was mercifully quiet. Pre-season Quidditch games weren’t usually so brutal, and aside from a fourth year Ravenclaw who came and went with an Invigoration Draught, there were seemingly no other injuries on-pitch besides Scorpius himself. 

Albus flagged down Madam Pomfrey, who was busy taking inventory of her remaining draught stocks. She took one look at their trio - with Scorpius gingerly holding his injured shoulder, Rose carrying his broom over her shoulder, and Al looking as frazzled but jubilant as usual - and barely suppressed a sigh, before abandoning her clipboard and quill at her desk. 

“Mr Malfoy,” she smiled thinly, tottering over. “Mr Potter, and Miss Granger-Weasley. Another Quidditch injury?” 

Al laughed, and fiddled with his glasses. Rose clammed up and wouldn’t meet Pompfrey’s eyes. Although they hadn’t previously visited the hospital wing in this particular formation, Scorpius and Rose were equally familiar with Madam Pomfrey as a result of their tumultuous Quidditch careers. Albus caused enough mischief in the hospital wing for Pomfrey to become as equally disdainful as she was fond of him.

“Just a scrape with a bludger.” Scorpius provided, lying through his teeth about the severity of the hit. “Not that bad, really.” 

Al rolled his eyes before loitering off towards Pomfrey’s potions cabinet. “Come off it. Nearly took him off his broom.” 

Pomfrey side-eyed him as he went. “You’re more than welcome to investigate my stock, Mr Potter, for educational purposes- but should I find even a vial out of place it’ll be detention for a week! And you, Miss Weasley- what have we said about restraining from shattering bones with those bludger hits of yours?” 

The sound of Al tinkering away with glass and vial racks was completely drowned out by Rose’s squawk of indignation. “Hardly! Slytherin played Ravenclaw today, it wasn’t me!” She huffed, flushing an impressive shade of red. “Besides, it was Carrow. Aiming for keepers is redundant, anyway.”

“Oh, of course it is.” Pomfrey mused, smiling ruefully. She reached for her wand and gestured to Scorpius. “Alright then, let’s see that shoulder.” 

He realised that meant peeling off most of his Quidditch gear. Reluctantly, he stepped down from his stool, refusing to look anywhere but the ceiling as he started unclipping his elbow pads- if only McLaggen hadn’t been blocking the showers, then at least he could’ve cleaned himself up a bit before being subjected to an inspection. As soon as he started fiddling with the clasps on his cloak, Rose unceremoniously dropped his broom onto a nearby bed. “I’m going to- make sure Albus doesn’t touch anything he shouldn’t,” she declared, that scarlet flush never leaving her cheeks. 

Albus looked up in confusion as Rose strode over, then he grinned and whistled with his fingers. “Looking good, Scor!” He jeered as Scorpius resumed undressing. Rose slapped his hand away from a blue-tinted bottle. Scorpius shook his head at him, fondly.

“Please don’t kick them out.” He quietly pleaded with the matron. He stopped holding his breath and dropped his equipment on the bed, next to his broom. When he pulled his jumper and undershirt up, Pomfrey immediately began shaking her head. 

“Just a scrape, he says,” she fussed, brows furrowed. Deep lines carved worry into her forehead. “You’re the opposite of your father in his youth, did you know that?” 

Scorpius bit back a defensive quip. “Always had the suspicion,” he relented. 

“I imagine so,” Pomfrey gave him a once over, examining the clusters of black and purple that blossomed over his shoulder and across into the valley of his clavicle. She pointed her wand at the bruising and traced it through the air. “Nothing a quick spell and a Wiggenweld won’t fix.” 

Someone knocks on the door, and Scorpius cranes his neck to see the Head of Gryffindor carrying a leafy Dittany plant across the wing. “Sorry to interrupt, Madam,” Professor Longbottom smiles apologetically, “but I’m here to drop off that Dittany you requested, and to pick up Miss Granger-Weasley.” 

“How many times have I told you, Neville- call me Poppy, now.” Pomfrey titters with a fond smile. 

Something clatters at the back of the room. Albus closes the potions cabinet with a guilty look on his face. His guilt quickly evaporates upon spotting Neville.

“Uncl- Professor!” He grins, distracting the professors from whatever he broke with his contagious excitement.

“Professor.” Rose frowns, looking rather deflated. 

Professor Longbottom leaves the Dittany on Madam Pomfrey’s desk, before turning to his Godchildren with a troubled expression. “Albus, Rose- I’m sorry we haven’t spoken much since term started! Giant pumpkin season, and all that. But you know I’m not here for a catch up.” 

Scorpius watches with an unmeasured amount of guilt as Rose squares herself up to face punishment from someone she clearly trusts and respects a lot. “How’s McLaggen?” She asks, looking only slightly guilty. 

“Better, now that I’ve fixed that nose of his. Come along, my office.” The herbology professor nods his head towards the door, and Rose dutifully follows. She doesn’t even glance at Scorpius on her way out. 

Al looks torn between chasing down his cousin or sticking to the hospital wing. His more mischievous side beats out his loyalty, and he mouths a  _ “dinner?”  _ to Scorpius as he rushes for the door. 

“Not quite, Mr Potter!” Pomfrey calls after him as she hands Scorpius a flask of Wiggenweld. “What the devil have you done to my potions cupboard?” 

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Scorpius and Al leave, but not after a stern talking to: Pomfrey was missing a vial of Felix Felicis, and the floor was covered in glass. Albus almost landed himself with bedpan detention for week, but he smiled charmingly and apologised with clear sincerity, promising to replace the vial with assistance from the Potions Master. Scorpius couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have the surname Potter, and how it must be to escape discipline through his father’s name alone; but then, he reasoned with his more bitter thoughts through the knowledge that James Potter spent most Saturdays in detention. If anything got Albus off the hook with teachers, it was probably the Slytherin in him.

“Rose’s fault.” Albus insisted. “She’s clumsy like that.” 

Scorpius wanted to say, he didn’t know she was clumsy. She could probably thread through the Quidditch hoops backwards if she wanted to. “She won’t get into  _ too  _ much trouble, will she?” Scorpius asked, dreading the answer. “For McLaggen?” 

Al shoved his hands into his pockets, quickening his pace. “With Neville? Probably not. Maybe detention for a couple of nights. With McLaggen? Who knows. I’m gonna go and tell James though, just in case- him and Fred should be back to the Gryffindor tower by now. He’ll be cashing in on his bets, no doubt- said you’d save more shots that McLaggen, just so you know!” 

“You do that.” Scorpius nodded, indulging in the minor satisfaction that came with a compliment from Gryffindor’s best chaser. Unfortunately, taking off his filthy Quidditch robes only to put them back on had made him feel somehow past disgusting, veering dangerously into inhuman territory. “I’m going to go clean up. See you at dinner?” He offered. 

“Sure. You’re alright, yeah?” Al asked, looking concerned. “McLaggen’s an arse, but you don’t have to worry about it- he won’t mess with you if he knows you’re with us.” 

Scorpius smiled tightly and nodded. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” He reassured, before continuing down the hall, as Albus started to climb a set of stairs to the second floor. “See you!”

* * *

The clarity of a hot shower and clean clothes relaxed the residual ache in his shoulder and made him feel a lot better. The adrenaline wore off, and as he left the boy’s bathrooms on the first floor he ran into some housemates, who sang his praises for their hard-earned win.

“You should’ve seen McLaggen’s face!” An older boy - Matthias? - snickered and clapped him on the back. Scorpius supposed that meant first-hand accounts of Rose’s standoff hadn't circulated too far. Yet.

He’d tried not to think about it too much, or read into how willing Rose had been to defend him - it was probably more about McLaggen than him, since he’d seen him mooning after her like an overgrown puppy - but it was hard. In his five years at Hogwarts, he’d been on the receiving end of a fair few hexes and jinxes, even fists, but he’d never had someone step in to defend him. With Albus, they tended to handle their problems discreetly; Harry Potter’s famous cloak of invisibility worked absolute wonders, when it wasn’t being shared amongst the rest of the Potter-Weasley brood. But Rose had put herself squarely between himself and a physical threat, she’d stared it down head-on and made her intentions clear. He couldn’t let her take the fall- not alone, and especially not without thanking her. 

He cast a quick drying charm on his hair and caught his reflection in an arched window, praying he wasn’t about to go and track down a pretty girl with his hair all fluffed up and messy. It was passable. 

With half an hour until dinner, he stalked through the castle corridors, doing his absolute best to look busy. He acknowledged cheers and commandments from fellow students with quick thanks and half-nods, and tried his best to avoid turning on his heel to weakly confront a couple of Gryffindor boys who excitedly muttered  _ “did you hear about Rose Weasley and Connor McLaggen?” _ within earshot. Eventually, he found himself out in the courtyards, heading over to the Herbology greenhouses where Professor Longbottom kept a rather informal office. 

When he arrived at Greenhouse Three, he found Professor Longbottom and Rose sitting by a trough full of leafy blue plants. He couldn’t quite recall the species- herbology was never his strong suit. They were talking in hushed tones, and Rose had a troubled look on her face. He stopped staring at them through the glass- it felt bad spying on them without their knowledge, so he waited by the front entrance, too nervous to look nonchalant. 

He went over what he planned to say in his head to try and steel himself. When Rose emerged from the front door, looking tired but oddly pleased with herself, his plan fell to shambles in an instant. 

“Rose!” He jerked upright, stepping away from the door. She jumped back, and reached for her wand - like any sensible witch would, upon finding a boy waiting for them unexpectedly - but visibly relaxed when she realised it was him. 

“Malfoy.” She replied, her voice measured and even. She closed the sliding door to Greenhouse Three behind her. “How’s the shoulder?” 

He supposed giving her a fright wasn’t the best way to show her his gratitude, but he couldn't turn back time. “I- sorry, for scaring you- didn’t mean to give you a fright.” He scrambled over his words and righted himself to his full height. He wasn’t sure if he liked how much he loomed over her. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. Did Longbottom give you detention?” 

A guarded look crossed Rose’s face. Alone, she wasn’t nearly as excitable and energetic as she had been after carting them away from McLaggen, but he supposed the adrenaline had worn off for her too. “Officially, yes- repotting mandrakes.” She offered him a wry smile, folding her arms over her chest. “But surely you’ve heard from Al how much Neville loves tea and biscuits.” 

“Perhaps I have, but I’ll never tell.” Scorpius relaxed considerably, relieved to know she hadn’t completely thrown herself under the bus. “I came to thank you- would it be alright if we talked, somewhere private, maybe?” 

She considered it. “Is the Astronomy Tower private enough for you?”

* * *

They made the trek in relative silence, making small talk here and there. Scorpius supposed it was natural, given how they’d barely interacted previously. By the time they’d hauled themselves up the Astronomy Tower stairs they’d cut into their allotted dinnertime hour - he allowed himself to entertain the notion that she might allow him to accompany her to a late dinner, before quashing it down as embarrassing and somewhat Victorian.

Scorpius had always liked the Astronomy Tower, even if the stairs made it a pain to visit. The intricate metalwork of the Goblin-crafted Astronomical Clock glimmered delicately against the enchanted, nebulous ceiling. Rose seemed a lot more bashful now he had her all to himself; she tugged at the hairs at the back of her neck when she was nervous, a mannerism she shared with Al. Perhaps they’d acquired it from the same source.

“I wanted to thank you for defending me,” Scorpius broke the silence, aiming to alleviate the awkward tension. “But also to ask you not to do it again, especially not up against McLaggen. Don’t get yourself into trouble for my sake- we barely know each other- and McLaggen is a big guy-” 

Rose frowned and scrunched up her eyebrows, and Scorpius got the impression that he’d messed up already. “For  _ your  _ sake?” She parroted, arms crossed once more. “Who says I did it for your sake- do you think Albus would’ve let you get yourself beaten up on your own? I’ve seen you both in duels, and McLaggen would’ve flattened you!” She glared up at him, stern and unimpressed. 

Scorpius suddenly felt kind of sympathetic towards McLaggen, if this is what he was faced with. “Right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to imply anything untoward.” He closed up, regressing into the mannerism reserved for the overly-polite negotiations of his world back home, of his ever diplomatic mother and conflict-averse father. “But truly, it means a lot, even if it means more to me that you intended it to.” 

“It’s not that I didn’t do it to protect you-” Now it’s her turn to scramble. He can practically see the cogs turning in her head. “Look, I didn’t do it for you, but I didn’t  _ not  _ do it for you- you’re Albus’ best friend. Even if we don’t know each other, I know a lot about you, and you’re important to him.” 

He stares down at her, contemplating her words- for all his aversions of Albus’ cousins, he supposed it would’ve been unreasonable to ask Albus to never speak of him, purely because of his subconscious paranoia surrounding his surname. He’d even met Harry Potter, for Merlin’s sake, and their fathers had once shaken hands at King’s Cross. It was stiff, awkward, and unbearably uncomfortable, but it had happened. For their sake.

Through his inner-turmoil, he notes that he’s probably going to make her uncomfortable if he stares at her for too long. He also notices the striking colour of her hazel eyes - not quite brown, with flecks of gold and green standing out in vibrant contrast to the gingery tones in her hair - and he forgets how to breathe for a second or two. He’s seen pictures of her mother in the Daily Prophet: they look quite alike.

“I-I guess that’s understandable.” He shrugs, stiff as a board with his hands balled up into fists at his sides. He’s still not great at the whole opening up thing, especially not with pretty almost-strangers, and not without making an absolute fool of himself. Whatever his intentions with this girl  _ (Al’s cousin!  _ His subconscious screams in warning) the worst case scenario would be for her to find out that he’s a bleeding sap on their first private meeting.

He throws caution to the wind, anyway. “What I’m trying to say is thank you, I’d like to get to know you better.” He rushes out, barely giving himself room to stammer. “Maybe it’s strange that we haven’t talked more. Al always says you’re his favourite cousin.” 

She puffs up, looking a bit brighter. “Of course I am, we’ve practically been together since birth.” She grins toothily, and Scorpius notes that the slight crookedness to her canines, and her adorably slightly-too-big front teeth. They don’t make her look any less attractive. He’s self-aware enough to admit that they’re still in that awkward transitory stage, between goofy pre-pubescent teenager and fledgling young adult; he just prays he’s growing into himself as well as she seems to be. She clears her throat, coughing into her fist - another nervous habit? - before offering him her other hand. “So then- friends, I suppose?” 

His eyes roam over her hand - over the nicks and cuts on her fingers, and the slight bruising to her knuckles - and for once, he acts without thinking. He takes her hand delicately, and pulls out his wand. When she doesn’t jerk away, he taps his wand gently against her knuckles. 

“ _ Ferula _ .” He smiles as thin, white bandages snake around her hand. “Friends.” He reiterates. “Would you like to walk to dinner together?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting the response that I got to the original oneshot (now chapter one), but thank you for interest in a continuation! Originally, Quick on the Draw was supposed to be a warm up for another Scorpius/Rose fic I've got in the works, set post-Hogwarts, but this might end up being it's own thing. I'll continue it when I feel like it, to be honest, and when I have the time to do so. 
> 
> Thank you for reviewing so far! I hope my characterisations of Scorpius and Rose are too different from the norm, or jarring!


	3. Partners in Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius and Rose begin a steady friendship; Scorpius is unsure whether or not he will survive Potions class.

The Great Hall is alive with laughter and chatter when Scorpius and Rose arrive. Earlier in their walk, Scorpius had offered Rose his newly-healed arm -  _ the hallmark of a proper gentleman lies within how he would escort a lady,  _ Grandmother used to tell him - and to his surprise, she’d accepted. 

Scorpius wasn’t an especially touchy person. It just wasn’t in his nature; he absolutely took after his father in that respect. His mother had a notable flair for the dramatics, and was quite an avid hugger, but she was the exception to the rule. Draco Malfoy could never refuse his wife, no matter how awkward he could be with publicly displaying his affections, and Scorpius would never dream of rejecting his dear mother. It struck him as odd that he didn’t particularly mind touching Rose, either. 

Today marks the first time they’d touched, after all, besides an apocalyptic three-way broom crash in third year. Being hauled by his uninjured arm across the castle grounds was surely an instance he’d remember for years to come.

When they arrive at the foot of the Gryffindor table, Scorpius freezes up. Their late entrance isn’t as shocking as he’d expected, as only a few students look up from their dinners. They’re not the only late arrivals, either, but Scorpius still feels uneasy. He spots a Slytherin in the year above glance his way, before muttering something to his friend, and Scorpius’ anxious brain reels a mile a minute. News of Rose’s confrontation with McLaggen must have spread life wildfire already, and rumours will undoubtedly fly now that he and Rose are suddenly friendly with one another, and she is holding his arm in a way that could be easily misconstrued-

Rose awkwardly shifts her weight, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Would you like to sit with us?” She asks, raising a thick eyebrow, unaware of Scorpius’ internal debate. 

Scorpius blanks for a second, before realising that standing by the Gryffindor table has drawn furter unwanted attention. Specifically, James Potter is staring daggers at him, whilst little Lily Potter looks flustered and confused. Al looks up from his plate of mashed potatoes. 

“Rose! Scorpius!” He calls, ignoring the looks of disgust his housemates shoot him for talking with his mouth full. “Over here!” 

Rose is still looking at him expectantly. 

“I’d love to sit with you and… y-your family,” Scorpius nods but avoids her gaze. Rose smiles, but pulls away from him as she walks over to her cousins. For some strange reason, Scorpius finds himself missing her weight clinging to his arm. 

Albus is sitting beside Lily, who is opposite James. Rose politely asks the boy beside James to move along, but pushes her luck by asking Scorpius to squeeze in on her other side. There’s a lot of shuffling at the Gryffindor table, and a few disgruntled grumbles, but Scorpius slots himself beside her anyway.

“So,” a bored voice pipes up from the other side of James, “are you going to tell mum and dad that you punched a sixth year?” 

“Hugo!” Rose chides, leaning back to get a better view of her studious younger brother, who predictably has his nose buried in a third-year textbook on divination methodologies. “Didn’t even notice you there, you’re so quiet. No, I’m not, and you won’t either, otherwise I won’t let you sit at the Gryffindor table anymore!” 

“Who’s to say I won’t tell, Rosie Posie? You can’t send me away!” James grins terribly and reaches out to ruffle Rose’s hair, like he’s some kind of second-rate villain. She catches his wrist just in time but doesn’t actually stop him from messing up her curls. “Punching McLaggen, and in defense of a Malfoy no less! Merlin, your parents won’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

Scorpius straightens up a bit, reflexively. It isn’t that his parents are on bad terms with the Potters and Granger-Weasleys, it’s that they’re not on any terms with them. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have both respectively accepted their sons’ friendship, but they haven’t actively pursued a reconciliation, and Scorpius has no idea of the Granger-Weasleys’ opinions of his father and household. A plate materialises in front of him, so he starts reaching for the carrots to occupy himself. 

“Knock it off, James!” Albus rolls his eyes from the other end of the table, before a devious smile crosses his lips. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them. Anyway, didn’t you forget to tell mum you’ve got detention this week?”

“You’re such a Slytherin, you know that Al? No offence.” James laughs it off, before suddenly turning to Scorpius. “Anyway, thanks for the game Malfoy. Won me a few galleons.” He declares to the table.

Scopius is slightly taken aback, but tries to hide his bewilderment with indifference. He nods. “Anytime.” 

“Just don’t think you’ll be beating Gryffindor this season!” James counters unexpectedly, still smiling good-naturedly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He looks between Rose and Scorpius, as if trying to discern something from their eating habits. 

Lily Potter, who has yet to say a word, suddenly perks up. “Not after I make the Gryffindor team this year!” She announces, proud and completely sure of herself. 

Al laughs around a forkful of peas, before being nigh-assaulted by his sister, and the Potter-Weasley end of the Gryffindor table erupts into a cacophony of noise and debate. Scorpius never allowed himself to feel lonely, whenever Al spent time at the Gryffindor table with his family, but now he finds himself enjoying the chaotic spontaneity of his best friend’s family, even under James Potter’s scrutiny.

* * *

Come Monday morning, Scoprius is unceremoniously reminded of exactly why he’d unintentionally avoided Rose Granger-Weasley for most of his Hogwarts career: double Potions with the Gryffindors, alternatively titled “The Bane of His Existence”. She was an absolute disaster - a liability, even - one that Al refused to partner with. Before they started, she’d knocked a vial of Gillyweed water off her desk, and almost shouldered her cauldron to the ground in her haste to clean up the mess. Currently, she was pleading with Albus.

“Sorry, Rosie,” Al stretches his arms above his head, grimacing at the creaks in his shoulders. “Me and Scor always work together.” 

“But it’s Potions!” Rose exclaims, startling poor Alice Longbottom, who sat beside her, inspecting the ingredients list for the Everlasting Elixir. “I need all the help I can get! I don’t  _ need _ a good mark, I just need to not fail!” 

Al twists his face, before flicking through his textbook. “Yeah, well I actually need a good mark.” He decides, resolute and firm. “I’m not getting to St Mungo’s on an Acceptable.” 

Scorpius bites his tongue to hold in a laugh. Rose crumples up a piece of parchment into a ball and flicks it at Al’s head. 

“Poor Alice, are you implying she wouldn’t be able to get you as good of a grade as I would?” Al teases, after swatting away the parchment.

Rose flusters, before looking miserable. “It’s not that! Uncle Neville would have my head if I got Alice a Troll. In the nicest, most Uncle Neville way, at least.” 

Alice barely looks up from her ingredients list, but at least has an amused smile on her face. She rolls her eyes and ignores her housemate, accustomed to the bickerings of the Potter-Weasley cousins. 

Rose props her arm up on the table and sighs, dejected. “You know mum’ll kill me.” She mumbles, forlorn and miserable - a last ditch attempt to get Al to reconsider - Scorpius focuses on his own elixir recipe to avoid saying something he doesn’t mean, like volunteering to partner with her in betrayal of Al. “You know she hates that I’m not as good at school as she was!” 

Al’s rebuttal isn’t as quick this time. He offers her a weak smile. “You could be if you actually tried. Anyway, Uncle Ron always fights your corner, and you’re good at Defense, and charms, and you’re a cracking flier. Potions isn’t for everyone.” 

Just as Scorpius is working up the nerve to chime in with his own encouragements, their professor stumbles through the door. Professor Lee is an odd wizard: a new hire, potentially the youngest of Hogwarts’ teaching staff, and a bit clumsy. He is scatterbrained, and although he’s an informative and helpful instructor, he always seemed to be preoccupied. Like his mind is elsewhere. He’d replaced old Slughorn just last year as Potions master and Slytherin Head of House, around February following an incident with a mandrake plant.

“Good morning, students,” he wheezes, dropping a pile of well-worn books onto his private desk at the front of the classroom. “Apologies for my lateness, it seems I misplaced my wand last night.”

“Sounds more like a wild night at the Three Broomsticks, to me.” Al whispers to Scorpius, nodding at Professor Lee. He did seem disheveled. His dark hair has a greasy sheen, exaggerated by the dim candlelight of the dungeons, and he looks tired, almost pallid. 

“Seen as you’ve all had more than enough time to settle back into life at Hogwarts, today we’ll begin brewing the first potion of the year: the Everlasting Elixir.” Professor Lee dusts himself off and stands at the front of the classroom, doing his best to look imposing and authoritative despite his youth. Scorpius wagers he could only be in his twenties. His father has never heard of a Mister Septimus Lee. 

“Now,” Professor Lee begins again, “unlike previous years, where you would choose to work in pairs of your own preference, I have decided to intervene and assign pairs. This has arisen following conversations with your respective Heads of Houses- well, in your case, that would be myself and Professor Longbottom. There will be no arguing, complaining, or reassigning of pairs.” 

There is a collective groan throughout the classroom, immediately followed by a wave of panicked chittering. Al practically jumps out of his seat. “He can’t be serious!” He hisses, clenching his fists. “He’s actually serious?” He deflates against the potioneering workbench.

“Chin up,” Scorpius frowns. “It’s not the end of the world.” He quietly disappointed too, in his own way. 

Professor Lee waves his wand, and conjures a long, unfurling parchment, seemingly out of thin air. He clears his throat and begins to read his assigned partnerships in a somewhat irritating drone. “Bell and O’Brien, Jones and Davies, Potter and Longbottom… Samuel and Stephens, Malfoy and Granger-Weasley, Lima and Finnegan-Thomas…” 

The list goes on and on, but Scorpius stops listening. He glances at Rose, and she stares back at him with wide eyes, looking equal parts relieved and afraid. In a similar sentiment, Scorpius isn’t sure whether he should feel happy or not, having just watched her attempt to destroy her potioneering equipment. 

“Nice one, Longbottom. Al and Al!” Albus exclaims, not as heartbroken about being split up from Scorpius as he had been mere minutes ago. “Good luck, Rose, Scor!” He claps Scorpius on the shoulder again, as he’d recently grown a tendency to do, a little rougher than usual. 

As the rest of their class organises themselves, Al and Rose simply switch places and swap their cauldrons and belongings between themselves. They have it a little easier than some of their classmates, who have to lug iron and pewter across the classroom. As Professor Lee begins rousing up another speech, Rose mumbles a preemptive  _ sorry _ to Scorpius. 

“Why are you apologising?” Scorpius frowns, keeping his voice low enough to avoid Lee’s wrath. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

* * *

Their first potion brewing session back at Hogwarts isn’t a complete disaster. In fact, Scorpius doesn’t entirely mind having Rose as a partner. She knows what she’s doing when she concentrates, and she’s proficient enough at preparing the individual ingredients needed to make the Everlasting Elixir. The problems arise when she is put in charge of measuring, or is required even an ounce of patience. 

“Add the wormwood to the mixture,” Rose reads aloud. She picks up her cutting board and is about to tip a whole portion of wormwood into the cauldron, before Scorpius snaps out of his concentration and grabs her wrist. 

“Don’t.” He warns, pulling her arm and the cutting board away from the cauldron. “The recipe says we should add it slowly, and we only need about two leaves- a quarter of your cutting board will do.” 

Rose looks confused, and only slightly affronted. Scorpius lets go of her wrist quickly, like she’s burnt him, and she divides up the chopped wormwood. “Let me see your textbook.” She insists, before crowding his personal space and peering over at his annotated copy of  _ Magical Drafts and Potions.  _ “Are you sure? I can’t find anything about it here.” 

“There,” Scorpius points at step seven, “add the wormwood gradually, stirring thrice clockwise between each addition, until two medium-sized leaves are dissolved within the mixture.” In the margins of the page, he’d written his own notes, which he’d been building on slowly since first year. “Wormwood is poisonous in large quantities.” 

“Must have missed that class,” Rose mumbles absently, reading over his annotations. 

Scorpius tries to keep focused and on track. He ignores how her shoulder brushes up against his arm, and silently chides himself for how touchstarved he’d apparently become. “What, in first year?” He teases, glancing over her face to judge her reaction. She merely furrows her brow. 

“Cheeky sod,” she mutters. She playfully shoves her shoulder in his side. 

The rest of their class follows smoothly, without incident, and in the end Professor Lee judges their potion to be a sublime rendition of the Everlasting Elixir; however, only time could truly tell, which was why they were starting off with a longevity potion at the beginning of term. As expected, Albus and Alice perform spectacularly also. 

“Who knew Rosie could get an Exceeds in Potions!” Al lightly ribs his cousin, flashing a cheesy smile from across the table. “And all it took was a little Scorpius!” 

Before their class finishes, Professor Lee approaches their table with a smile. The fumes created by a classroom full of cauldrons has made Rose and Albus’ hair turn frizzy; Lee’s hair looks even worse. “Congratulations, you four.” He motions to the quartet. “Exceeds Expectations all around. I’m sure your parents will be thrilled, such a promising start to fifth year Potions. Yours especially, Miss Granger-Wealsey.” 

“Thanks, Professor.” Rose nods. She smiles back, but doesn’t look entirely comfortable talking about her mother’s reactions to schoolwork. 

“I’ve spoken with the rest of the class individually, and would like to quickly reiterate that these are the firm pairings for the rest of the year. Any group work will be undertaken together, is that clear?” 

The four of them nod, echoing a chorus of agreements. Lee seems somewhat taken aback, like he wasn’t expecting such unanimous compliance. And then he looks to Rose and Scorpius. “Good, good. Now, Miss Granger-Weasley, Mr Malfoy, may I speak to you after class is dismissed?” 

Scorpius raises a thin eyebrow. “Of course, Professor.” He nods again, and Rose follows suit. Al shoots them a questioning look from across the table, but Professor Lee is already wrapping things up. He starts to pack up his books anyway. 

“Remember- our Wednesday afternoon session is purely theory based, so no cauldrons. I’ll see you at one o’ clock sharp!” 

“Good luck,” Al tells them. “Hope you don’t need it.” 

One by one, the rest of the students start to filter out of the classroom, lumbering their potions equipment about. Once Professor Lee is satisfied with their exit, he turns to Rose and Scorpius, with a thinner smile. “I didn’t mean to cause you any alarm, so you can stop looking so scared, Malfoy.” 

Scorpius makes the conscious effort to drop his shoulders a bit, and tries to breathe deeper and regularly. “Sorry, Professor. What’s this about?” 

Professor Lee straightens his posture. “Before we begin, I need you both to know that I simply have your best interests at heart. As your professor, it is my duty to see to the comfort and sensibilities of my students.”

Not for the first time, Scorpius gets the distinct impression that Professor Lee isn’t acting entirely genuine. He doesn’t dislike the man, per say, but something about his behaviour feels strange. Even if he just had a penchant for drinking, like Al had suggested, he found it strange that McGonagall would allow such a badly-put together man to lead a class, especially one so young. However, Scorpius could not deny his skill as an instructor: he was exceptionally good at explaining rather difficult, abstract concepts in potion making, and the mostly successful grades of his students spoke for themselves. 

Lee made rather intense eye contact, first with Scorpius, then with Rose. It was slightly unnerving, and made Scorpius even more anxious. “Your pairing is a unique one. At first, I was reluctant to put the two of you together due to your parents’...  _ histories _ , and the fact that I’ve never seen the two of you interact around the castle. And yet, the work you’ve produced today is astounding- so I just wanted to make sure, even though I have told the rest of the class they can’t change partners, would the two of you like a different arrangement?” 

Rose physically bristles. “Our parents’  _ histories _ ?” She repeats, incredulous, with a rising tone of anger in her voice. “Professor, I can absolutely assure you that Scorpius and I have never felt the need to get involved with our weird, centuries old family rivalry.” 

“Quite the opposite,” Scorpius adds, although a little less confidently than Rose. “We’ve recently become friends- through Albus, and Quidditch.” 

“Ah, of course,” Professor Lee muses, holding a hand to his chin like he’s trying to figure out a particularly difficult puzzle. “I was referring to more recent generations of trouble between your families, but now it makes sense. You both play Quidditch, don’t you? Competitive sport is an aggression outlet, after all. Well, never the matter! Of course, I didn’t mean to imply anything unsavory between the two of you! In fact, it’s quite a relief to hear you get along. If you’re both comfortable with this arrangement, we can simply carry on, yes?” 

“Yes,” Rose and Scoripius decide in unison. Where she was growing somewhat irritated, Scorpius was growing uncomfortable. 

“That is all, then- do remember, theory on Wednesday. Thank you, Miss Granger-Weasley, Mr Malfoy.” And then Professor Lee casually dismisses them, as if he hadn’t just been probing and speculating about their family histories, trying to stoke some sort of fire. He ushers them out of the door, black capelet fanning out behind him, and slams the door soundly at their backs. 

“The nerve!” Rose’s aggravation immediately bursts. She throws her hands up and starts pacing quickly down the west dungeon corridors. “Giving us-  _ alternative  _ treatment, when he was part of the group that put us together! What, did he expect us to blow up in each other’s faces? Throw a fit in the middle of class, refuse to work together?” 

“I’m sure he was just… concerned.” Scorpius interjects weakly. Now matter how strange Professor Lee sometimes acts, it still feels bad to slander his Head of House. “I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to associate with a Malfoy. Even if Albus is okay with it.” 

Scorpius had been following her down the corridor, and is stopped abruptly when she turns to face him, fire in her eyes. “We’ve just started talking, and you’re already pulling the  _ “I’m a Malfoy”  _ card? Merlin, Al said you would do this!” She crosses her arms over her chest and chews on her bottom lip, irritated. “What happened between our parents is old news- stuff for the history books, not us. It doesn’t concern us at all!” 

“I… understand. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like…” Scorpius trails off, staring down at her. “Never mind. I get it, you’re right. You’re not a bad potions partner, you know- when you’re paying attention.” 

Rose grinns up at him. “Exactly!” She agrees, before holding a hand dramatically over her chest. “I’m  _ not bad _ ! And you’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m going to let go of the best potioneer in our class! Just don’t tell Al I said that.” 

Scorpius laughs demurely, genuine but restrained. His hair is a mess, falling out of his loose ponytail, and his uniform is covered in soot, but he feels alright. He can feel his cheeks rapidly heating up. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” He promises her. She beams up at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky just for her, and he forgets to chastise himself for how rapidly his feelings are spiralling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! thank you so much for the kudos, feedback, and comments on the last chapter! i wasn't initially sold on this story evolving past a one shot, but now i'm pretty excited for it, and i hope you are too! 
> 
> just a head's up- i'm a second year university student, and classes started two days ago, so updates will probably slow down a little. still, i'll try and find the time, since this story is quickly becoming my baby!
> 
> i originally wanted to write a different Scorpius/Rose story, which i currently have outlined as a post-hogwarts multichapter. currently, i'm thinking about linking these two stories together... the current plan for this story to cover fifth year, a give a brief insight to sixth and seventh year. thoughts?
> 
> i'm still growing and learning as a writer, so if you have any constructive criticism, please share!
> 
> thank you again! 
> 
> \- hyperionee
> 
> [cross posted on FF.net + HPFF.net]


	4. Responsibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius is presented with a decision; Rose is supportive, and Albus is hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ
> 
> Hey! I'm really sorry about the wait on this one- this chapter was reworked a couple of times, and kind of threw me through a loop. 
> 
> I'm currently trying to work out where this story is going, since it wasn't supposed to evolve beyond a oneshot, and ultimately acts as a vehicle to getting to my next fic, which is already partially written. So please bare with me! Any and all feedback is appreciated greatly, so let me know if you think this fic is going in the wrong direction, or if my spelling is atrocious, or if you're enjoying it. 
> 
> ALSO- I am incredible unhappy with my use of present tense. It started as an exercise to see if I could do it, but now it's continued throughout the story, I hate it. What do you think? Would it be okay if I went back and edited previous chapters into past tense, or should I just keep going? 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the comments, hits, kudos, and previous feedback! It means a lot to me! 
> 
> \- hyperionne x

Scorpius manages another week before the pressure of his OWLs year hits him full force, and he abandons Al for a couple of days in favour of studying feverishly in the library. On more than one occasion, he risks punishment for disregarding the student curfew, and sneaks around the castle at odd hours like a ghoul; sometimes he just loses track of time, and it's not his fault that Madam Pince often forgets to check the more secluded areas of the library. 

Despite his mounting exhaustion, Scorpius endures, and he does so quite well. He studies, and he plays Quidditch, and he takes his dinner more often than not with Al and Rose at the Gryffindor table, and then he studies more. It isn’t until the second week of October that he finally hits a bump in the road, like he always expected he would. 

First, McGonagall calls for a private meeting, and also invites along Professor Lee. Scorpius makes his way to the Headmistress’ Office, and wills his hands not to shake. The many eyes of preceding Headmasters peer down at him as he takes his seat, silently judging him, analysing his clothes and his face and his body language.

He hasn’t the fainted idea why they’d request his presence. His anxious mind unhelpfully reminds him of McLaggen, and Rose’s less-than-adequate _‘punishment’_ for assaulting a fellow student. 

“Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy. Please, take a seat.” Headmistress McGonagall eyes him in a similar fashion to her predecessors, staring over her glasses at him. Shoulders squared and chin high, Scorpius thinks back to the first thing his father said about Professor McGonagall back in first year:  _ not one to mess with.  _ Since then, Scorpius has only had a handful of encounters with the former Head of Gryffindor, all largely positive, but he fears today is the day his luck runs dry. But McGonagall shakes her head almost fondly, and Scorpius momentarily questions why his brain has started correlating tartan with an inate fear response.

She pauses for a moment, analysing him with a slight squint to her eyes, and almost imperceptibly glances to Professor Lee. “You have nothing to worry about, Mr Malfoy, I can assure you. Your teachers tell me you still have quite the nervous streak- it’s been a while since I’ve taught you Transfiguration, after all. I was sure you’d grow out of it.” 

Scorpius swallows down an embarrassed splutter, and sits up straighter. “Perhaps one day.” He concedes, unable to prevent himself from sneaking his own glance at Professor Lee, who looks slightly more put together than usual. “Can I ask what this is about?” 

His curiosity is permitted; it’s unusual for the Headmistress herself to call for an audience at two o’ clock on a Thursday, and Scorpius is missing out on his valuable self-directed study period (or  _ ‘free’ _ period, as Al and Rose call it- as if it means they don’t have to do anything at all). 

McGonagall nods, and looks to the open book spread out in front of her. “Again, nothing to worry about. I am simply about to present you with an offer.” She says, slow and deliberate, in a way that almost exaggerates the Highlands twang to her accent. “However, until you make a decision, this information is not to leave this office. Am I clear?” 

“Yes." Scorpius nods, taking a deep breath. Is she going to expel him? Did McLaggen’s father complain to the school? Are they bartering with him? 

McGonagall flicks through the heavily bound book before coming to a page containing a bulging envelope. Crumpled and poorly concealed, but unbroken at the seal. She slides it across the desk to Scorpius. “The male prefect for your House and year - Adam Nott - has had his badge and title rescinded due to unforeseen circumstances. Professor Lee and I would like to offer his former privileges and responsibilities to you, Scorpius Malfoy.” 

“You were our second choice,” Professor Lee speaks up, sitting to Scorpius’ left. He fiddles with the loose cravat at his neck. “The only edge Nott has over you is his disposition. We feared you would be too… conflict averse to properly guide the younger Slytherin students.” 

“Unfortunately, it is also Nott’s  _ disposition  _ that lost him his badge. We hope for greater things from you.” McGonagall allows herself a small, pleased smile as she offers Scorpius the letter.

Scorpius’ mind goes blank. He’s only somewhat aware of his slightly agape mouth. “Me?” He blinks rapidly, willing himself back into the conversation. “Are you sure? There are plenty of other options- Albus, Zachary, Connor-” 

“You would recommend that we make Potter a prefect?” Professor Lee practically scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Perhaps if his brother had graduated a year earlier. The fewer Potter-Weasleys in student leadership roles, the better. The less likely we are to invite corruption into the student governing body .”

Scorpius had no idea what he meant, but didn’t ask any further questions. He breaks the seal on the envelope with careful hands, and pulls out the letter. Emerald ink flattered McGonagall’s looping script. Still in the envelope is the final unassigned Prefects badge. 

His mother will be so proud. 

Eventually, McGonagall grows tired of his stalling. He’s stared at the letter for too long, looking too confused for a student with his grades. “If you’d prefer not to make a decision this instant, come back to my office on Saturday morning. We need to know by Monday, so we can alert our third choice if necessary.” 

Scorpius blinks at her owlishly. “Are you sure it’s alright?” He pesters, too hot and clammy in his robes for the beginning of October. 

“A decision by Monday is all we ask.” McGonagall reiterates, and Scorpius practically bolts from the room - in a polite way, of course. 

* * *

His second bump in the road: his father. 

Tangentially related to both the delivery of the Prefect’s badge and the incident with McLaggen is Draco Malfoy’s first letter of the year. Iris, the family eagle owl, makes a racket at breakfast the following morning, and elegantly drops Scorpius’ post on his head. 

“Better hope she doesn't bludgeon you to death with your next parcel,” Al offhandedly remarks around a mouthful of porridge. 

The letter is sealed and stamped with the Malfoy coat of arms, stark and imposing in jet black wax. Draco Malfoy’s penmanship is unmistakable. Scorpius can feel Al’s eyes tracking over the heavyweight parchment, but doesn’t stop himself from unfurling the letter. 

_ Dear Scorpius,  _

_ I apologise for taking so long to write; business has skyrocketed at the shop, in the run  _ _ up to Hallowe’en and all. I received your letter well yesterday evening, and wrote back at my earliest convenience. Hopefully Iris will be more delicate with her deliveries this year.  _

_ Your Mother and I miss you dearly, and we are so incredibly proud of you. Headmistress  _ _ McGonagall wrote to us about your pending offer for Prefect. Your Mother is especially elated, and we are both over the moon! But please do whatever you feel most comfortable with, and let us know either way. I was elected Prefect when I was your age, you know. It’s difficult work, I assure you, so whatever you decide we will support you fully. _

_ We hope you’ve settled back in at Hogwarts. The Greengrasses will be joining us at the  _

_ Manor for Christmas this year- just so you know.  _

_ Best wishes,  _

_ \- Father _

_ P.S: A client of mine visited the shop last week and accused you of provoking his son at school, alongside that Weasley girl (you know the one). Should I be concerned?  _

Scorpius neatly folds the letter back into the envelope, before collapsing his head against the Slytherin table. 

“Ouch,” Al muses, eyes fixed on his breakfast. “That’s rough, mate. Kinda funny that McLaggen barely managed a footnote, though.” 

“So you won’t deny you were reading over my shoulder?” Scorpius mumbles into the hardwood, thoroughly embarrassed by his father’s blasé approach to writing his letters. 

Al laughs and almost chokes on his porridge. He throws an arm around Scorpius, leaning towards him conspiratorially. “Not at all- but Prefect! When were you gonna tell me?” 

“When I’ve decided on an answer.” Scorpius replies, miserable and overwhelmed. 

* * *

On Friday evenings after class, Scorpius sticks to his gruelling study routine and squirrels himself away in the library for yet another evening of intense revision. He gathers up a stack of heavy books - all on charm theory - and dumps them on a small two-person desk tucked away by the restricted section. This is his desk. Too deep within the library’s staggeringly tall shelves for most students to find, and too close to the restricted section for those that find him anyway. Scorpius drops his satchel on the floor and pulls out his favourite quill, a roll of parchment, and a battered old ink well. 

He manages twenty-five minutes on the history of Orabella Nuttley, the creator of the Mending Charm, before Rose comes barrelling into his little sanctuary. “Scorpius!” She hisses, just a fraction too loud. Someone from a few rows away  _ shushes  _ at her, but she ignores them, leaning heavily against a bookshelf for support as she catches her breath. Her hair is messy, fluffing up in places and falling out of her ponytail, but most importantly it’s a bright, emerald green. 

“Dear Merlin,” Scorpius drops his quill, resulting in a lovely blot at the end of his last sentence. “What happened to you?” 

“Albus happened!” Rose seemingly regains her stamina and stands up straight, folding her arms across her chest in her best effort to look imposing. She still manages it, despite her short stature; it’s probably her beater’s arms, Scorpius supposes. She looks furious. “Colour change charmed me in the corridor for no reason! I chased after him, but lost him in the end. Thought he might be with you.” 

Scorpius offers her a sympathetic smile, and bites back a laugh. “Haven’t seen him, I promise. If I do, I’ll let you know.” 

Rose rolls her eyes, but pushes off against the bookshelf and joins him at his little table anyway. She pulls out her wand and lights the candle sitting on the desk. “You’ll hurt your eyes, studying all night in the dark.” She tells him in a matter-of-fact kind of way. Scorpius rolls his eyes in mimicry. 

In the dim candlelight, he gets a chance to inspect her close up: the light splattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks are fading alongside the death of summer, vastly contrasting the face of her brother, who’s still covered in them. Her eyebrows are just as thick and unruly as her hair, but they suit her roguish, sometimes boyish personality- they look darker, too, potentially influenced by Albus’ most recent prank. Not that her hair looks bad, per se- it looks wrong, certainly, but not unflattering or unattractive. Scorpius bites the inside of his cheek as he realises the direction of his thoughts, and wonders absentmindedly if Albus and the rest of the Weasley-Potters would string him up for his blossoming crush.

“Green looks good on you.” He says quickly, before his brain can catch up to his mouth and stop him from embarrassing himself. As soon as he realises what he’s said, he freezes up. Rose goes equally rigid, and Scorpius wishes for the castle to open up a hole underneath his chair and swallow him for all of eternity. “I mean- not to say that red isn’t your colour-” he backpedals, pushing away from the desk and leaning back in his chair, the picture of uncharacteristic nonchalance. “Since you’re a Gryffindor and all, and a Weasley too, red kind of has to be your colour, I guess- and your normal hair suits you really well-” 

To his relief, she snorts out a laugh. It’s not a delicate laugh, like his own self-conscious giggle-behind-the-hand maneuver - an attempt at politeness that just embarrasses him in the end - Rose is a lot more brash, and unrestrained. Her deepening frown and sour mood are as good as forgotten, as she leans towards him with a sparkle in her eye. “Is that so?” She asks in a teasing lilt. “Maybe I should keep it this way, if you think it suits me?” 

He knows she’s bluffing, and whilst he doesn’t hate this new hair, it isn’t Rose. Her sudden proximity, leaning across his already cramped desk and into his space has his brain short-circuiting even harder. “I don’t-” He starts, trying to find the right words. His face feels like it’s on fire. 

Rose tenses up for a second, watching him closely with an analytical eye, before she settles back into her seat with a pensive look on her face. “No harm, no foul, Mal-  _ Scorpius _ .” She smiles reassuringly, carrying on as if she hadn’t almost slipped back into calling him by his surname. “I appreciate the compliment.”

She doesn’t press it any further, and Scorpius is confused but thankful. The last thing he wanted was for Rose to treat him like some blushing damsel, unable to get his words out or handle some light flirting, if he could even call it that, but the world of girls who took a second glance at him was new and intimidating. Not all Quidditch players were meant to be heart-throbs, especially not those who were tall and lithe, disproportionately slim, and Slytherin keepers descended from Death Eaters. 

He thinks he can catch the beginnings of a flush on Rose’s cheeks, too, but doesn’t let himself dwell on it for too long. He turns back to his textbook. “Sorry I can’t help you with Al,” he says, frowning. “I have to study.” 

“It’s alright.” Rose says, smiling pleasantly again as she reaches for her wand. She aims it at herself and mutters a quiet  _ “colovaria”,  _ effectively performing a reasonably complex wand maneuver in reverse. Scorpius is impressed to say the least, watching as a gradient of auburn washes down her hair from the roots. It’s a little more orange than her natural hair colour, he thinks, or perhaps that’s just a trick of the candlelight, but the charm reversion is successful nonetheless. She puts down her wand and grins at him. “I could help you with charms, if you’d like?” She offers, sounding uncharacteristically unsure, as if he’d turn down her help or her company. “Since you’re going to be dragging me through Potions all term.” 

“If you’re sure,” Scorpius insists, flushing red again. “I’d love your help.” 

* * *

A few hours later, they’ve both accidentally missed dinner, and end up wandering down to the kitchens with the intention of begging for scraps from the house elves on clean-up duty. It’s not the most dignified of approaches, but it works, or so Rose says. “Just don’t tell Hugo,” she warns, rolling her stiff shoulders as they walk. “Because he’ll tell mum, and she’ll have a proper go at me for abusing the house elves’ working hours and wasting their time. As if she never forgot to eat when she studied at school.” 

Scorpius doesn’t feel great about it either, and feels the sudden urge to point out how the house elves are all given proper wages from Hogwarts now - they’re members of staff, just like the professors and groundskeepers - but he’s sure Rose is aware of that already, what, with how influential her mother was in ensuring those rights were consolidated within Wizarding law. “My lips are sealed.” He insists, shrugging his satchel further up his shoulder. Before they get to the kitchens, he finds his mind drifting off to more pressing matters. “By the way, who are the Gryffindor prefects for our year?” He asks, trying and failing to sound casual. The slight strain in his voice gives him away. 

Rose raises an eyebrow. Her hair is now completely back to its original shade. Scorpius can only pray she doesn’t tell any of her family members about his ridiculous attempt at a compliment, which absolutely could be misconstrued as a blatant come-on. “Not sure,” she admits, looking sheepish. “Maybe Arjun Joshi and Katie Fischer. Why, need to know who to look out for or something? I could ask James, he always knows who to avoid.” 

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Scorpius frowns, suddenly becoming self-conscious. “It’s important. I’m not really supposed to be talking about it, to be honest.” 

Rose’s frown deepens, but she shrugs it off. “Alright, then.” She says, letting it go. “But if you have something you need to get off your chest, I won’t go around gossiping about you behind your back.” 

When they get to the kitchens, they’re lucky enough to be greeted by a particularly soft-hearted and generous house elf, Flopsy, who chastised them for skipping dinner, but whipped them up some leftovers anyway. 

“Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy mustn’t be neglecting their healths, or Flopsy will be forced to tell Professor Longbottom and Professor Lee,” she told them, looking as cross as she could manage, with her long, bony fingers on her hips. “But it is okay just this once. Flopsy will make sure Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy eat well tonight.” 

“Thank you, Flopsy.” Scorpius smiles a little awkwardly, and bows with his hand over his chest. “It won’t happen again, we promise.” 

Flopsy sputters and clicks her fingers, producing a short wooden bench out of thin air, alongside cutlery and two plates of salmon, rice, vegetables, and potatoes. Scorpius plucks them both out of the air and offers one to Rose, as they sit side-by-side on the bench. Flopsy potters off to the rest of her work. 

“McGonagall offered me a prefect badge.” He announces, ignoring his food in favour of staring aimlessly at nothing in particular. “Adam Nott had his revoked. Not certain why. I have until Monday to make a decision.” 

Rose almost chokes on a mouthful of fish. “Prefect?” She echoes, staring at him hard. “That’s great! You must be thrilled! ...Why don’t you sound thrilled?” 

Scorpius pushes his peas around with his fork, trying to properly string his thoughts together in his head. “It’s not that I’m unhappy,” he starts, despite looking conflicted and unhappy, “it’s more like- I don’t know. I don’t think I’m…  _ bold  _ enough to be prefect. I can’t tell people what to do.” 

“We haven’t known each other for very long,” Rose admits, taking bites of her meal between sentences. Unlike Albus, she finishes her food before continuing to speak, leaving Scorpius to bemusedly wonder which relative he picked that up from. “In the sense that we only started speaking recently, anyway. But I think you’d be an amazing prefect,” she continues, turning to him. She puts down her knife and rests a hand on his shoulder, and Scorpius tries not to fidget and pretends like it doesn’t burn right through his jumper. “Boldness isn’t everything. You’re kind, and you stick to the rules, and you’re incredibly clever. I’m still surprised you’re not in Ravenclaw, to be honest. And people look up to you.” 

Scorpius twists his face a bit. She sounds so genuine, but he doesn’t believe that anyone could or would want to look up to him. “Thanks, Rose. I appreciate it, really.” 

“If you’re that worried about being too reserved or anything like that, just know you won’t be alone. If anyone tries to mess with you, you’ve got me and Al to back you up.” She nudges her shoulder into his, and nods towards his food. “But really, you should eat. Maybe think about this some more tomorrow. I personally think you should take it, but do whatever makes you feel comfortable.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Scorpius leans back against the kitchen wall and smiles. “Don’t suppose you’d tell James to go easy on me, would you? If I accepted prefect?” 

She laughs, and shakes her head, preoccupied with balancing peas on her fork. “I could put in a good word, but being Slytherin’s golden boy keeper and a prefect in your fifth year might make James lose his hair.” 

They continue eating in comfortable silence, with Rose still leaning slightly against Scorpius, and in the end Scorpius is left thinking  _ why not?  _ He certainly could do with thinking a little more adventurously, and throwing caution to the wind every once in a while might do him some good. 

He can’t remember the last time he opened up to someone as quickly as he did to Rose. Somehow, the thought doesn’t make him feel anxious at all. 

* * *

Come Saturday morning, Scorpius visits the Owlery to send his parents a letter: 

_ Dear Mother and Father,  _

_ Thank you for writing so early. I hope business is going well back home. I miss you both  _ _ very much, and can’t wait until Christmas.  _

_ I think you’ll both be pleased to know that I spoke with Headmistress McGonagall and the  _ _ Slytherin Head of House, Professor Lee, this morning, specifically to accept their offer; I am now Slytherin’s newest Prefect. Father, if you have any advice for me, I would love to hear it. I promise I will not allow my new duties to impact my grades.  _

_ Thank you for always being so supportive. I’m sure term will end before we both know it. _

_ Love,  _

_ \- Scorpius _

_ P.S: Please don’t worry about whatever Mr. McLaggen has said- this issue has since  _ _ been resolved, and it was just a silly argument anyway. I have recently become friends with Miss Rose Granger-Weasley, since she defended me during a Quidditch brawl. (She’s Albus’ cousin, in case you didn’t know).  _

_ P.S.S: Seriously, please don’t worry- I know, Malfoys don’t brawl. I didn’t hurt anyone, and nobody hurt me, thanks to Rose. _

After he sends Iris off with a letter tucked against her leg and a quick pat on the head, Scorpius heads over to the Quidditch pitches for training. Nestled safely within his trunk back in the Slytherin dormitories is his newly-received appointment letter and a sparkling emerald badge. 


	5. Seedlings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dueling Club is open for business! Scorpius is obvious and oblivious at the same time.

One week before the Hallowe’en feast, Scorpius is inaugurated as the new Slytherin prefect for Fifth Year. Under the guidance of Professor Lee, and his upperclassman in Slytherin, he is taught how to properly conduct himself as an extension of Hogwarts’ faculty: guide the younger students, ensure nobody is sneaking around the castle after curfew, cooperate with the professors, and above all, do not abuse the prefect title. All in all, it goes smoother than he first expected. 

Al is supportive, as Scorpius expected he would be. Of course, he tries to exploit Scorpius’ newfound privileges wherever possible, until Scorpius finds his backbone and insists that no, he won’t be protecting Al from detention should he sleep in on Tuesdays. 

“Please,” Al begs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His uniform is all crumpled, and his hair is as wild as Rose’s. “I hate Defense. Can’t we just… skip the first half-hour?” 

They stand together, forming a circle around their professor with the rest of the class- an eclectic mix of the four houses, instead of the standard two most classes opted for. There were two sessions a fifth year student could be sorted into, depending on ability and personal fortitude, and by some stroke of incredible misfortune, Al and Scorpius had both been allocated into the more rigorous timeslot. Back in their parents’ time at Hogwarts, Defense Against the Dark Arts was rumoured to be cursed; every Professor who taught it would suffer some kind of terrible tragedy, be it a great personal tragedy or their own demise. Now, it would be laughable to even entertain such a thought.

Their current instructor is a lady named Professor Kelly. She’s short and young - perhaps older than Professor Lee, but still younger than most teaching staff - and some of the older years claim she’s a metamorphmagus, not that she’s given them any sort of concrete proof. She rattles on a lot about her days as a student, and how she was the school’s dueling champion, under the tutelage of the now-retired Professor Flitwick. All things considered, she’s a scatterbrained maniac, but she teaches well. 

“I can hear you, Mister Potter- you do realise this, yes?” Professor Kelly flicks her wand at him, and tidies up his uniform, magically flattening the creases in his shirt and trousers. “Do take better care of yourself, Slytherin doesn’t need to lose any  _ more _ points due to improper uniforms.” 

From the other side of the circle, a couple of Gryffindor girls giggle behind their hands, and Rose rolls her eyes, smirking at her giddy friends. 

Professor Kelly goes off on a tangent about the importance of wearing the school uniform correctly, and Al lowers his voice to a whisper. “Do you think Rose would introduce me to her friend over there?” He asks, trying to be nonchalant and discreet as he motions to the tall, blonde girl shadowing his cousin. “Amélie Clearwater- she goes to Trelawney’s Divination club.” 

Scorpius twists his face. “I thought you were interested in Alice?” He hisses back, confused at Albus’ sudden interest. “You’ve never mentioned Clearwater before.” 

“Me and Alice?” Al gawks, shaking his head. “She’s practically family, Uncle Neville would kill me. Besides, Amélie’s part Veela.” 

“And?” Scorpius blanches. “ _ I’m _ part Veela. Your cousins are part Veela. What’s that got to do with anything?” 

Albus disguises a laugh with fake coughing, hiding his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re like, one-tenth Veela, you prick! That hardly counts! Amélie’s at least one-quarter.” 

Before Scorpius can retort with something snarky, Professor Kelly wraps up her uniform rant and sweeps into the middle of the circle. She claps her hands together, and leans back on the heels of her boots. “But that’s enough of that! Today’s class will be a very important session, as I’m sure you all know- up until this point, we’ve done a lot of the boring stuff, reading and note-taking for theory and such, but today is the beginning of the official Fifth Year Interhouse Dueling Club! Or, the FYIDC for short!” 

“That’s hardly shorter.” Scorpius mutters, before taking an elbow to the side from Albus. 

“What’s with your snark lately, Mr Prefect?” Al chides. 

“Now,” Professor Kelly continues, oblivious to the mumblings of her students. “The Dueling Club will proceed like this: every other lesson, we will duel and undertake practicals instead of theory. Everyone is to duel at least once, and duels will be allocated between random pairs of students- it’s all in good fun, really! You’ll remember things better if you enjoy the learning part, or so I always say! So, for our first match up- everybody draw your wands!” 

Scorpius would be lying if he said a room full of his peers drawing their wands at once didn’t make him nervous- he didn’t know how Professor Kelly could stand waltzing around in the middle of their little circle. He was never particularly keen on duelling, and didn’t understand how he’d made it into the more advanced OWL class. 

“Of the students in this room- who most recently performed a successful  _ accio _ charm?” Professor Kelly asks the room, but more specifically asks her wand- with a delicate flourish, a small green light emanates from the tip of her wand, pointing directly across the room to Al’s wand, which lights up in a similar shade of green. The jovial look on Al’s face falls away immediately. “Very good, Mr Potter!” Professor Kelly cheers. 

“Do I have to?” Al suddenly looks quite pale. 

“And who most recently formed a successful locking charm, I wonder?” Professor Kelly continues performing the same charm as before, but this time her wand zeroes in on Rose’s. “Well done, Miss Granger-Weasley! Locking away secrets, are we?” 

Rose straightens up, stiff as a board, and her cheeks flush. “Not at all, Professor!” She insists, before marching into the circle and standing opposite Al, waiting for him to do the same. Scorpius takes a step back, alongside the rest of the students, as they clear the room and stand against the wall in anticipation of a friendly familiar duel. 

“Do I  _ have  _ to?” Al repeats, reluctant and unmoving. “She’s my cousins, she’ll kick my arse, I know what she’s like-” 

“Come on, Potter!” Professor Kelly waves him off. “Dueling is an essential life skill- for self-defense! You can’t rely on aurors for everything! Don’t tell any of the other Professors I said that, especially not that bloody House Head of yours.” 

Scorpius pushes away from the wall to nudge Al forwards, and Al reluctantly turns to Rose. They both take their positions opposite one another. 

“And now, you bow, then take five paces away from one another- yes, just like that!” Their Professor coaches, having migrated to the far end of the long, rectangular hall, standing behind her desk. 

They bow low to one another, and Scorpius counts in his head as they pace away to opposite ends of the room, and then Professor Kelly counts loudly, “one, two, three,” and both cousins spin on their heels. 

“ _ Vocalmucus! _ ”

“ _ Salvio Hexia!”  _

Bright sparks burst out of both their wands, with Albus starting strong, attempting his mother’s famous Bat-Bogey Hex as an opener whilst Rose expertly defends, anticipating her cousin’s first move. Albus pushes forwards, going on the offensive, but Rose stands her ground. She balances her weight perfectly, learning forward on her dominant foot as she deflects his hex. As soon as the hex hits her deflective charm, she thrusts forward and yells  _ “flipendo!”,  _ too quick and sure of herself for Al to do much of anything. He’s halfway through his own jinx deflection before a wall of wind slams into him, knocking him clear off his feet. He sails back a couple of feet before landing with an audible  _ thud _ , crumpling into a heap on the hardwood floor. 

Rose is moving before Al even hits the ground, babbling  _ “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” _ as she goes, and Professor Kelly is cackling in the corner. She applauds her students, inciting a cacophony of awkward clapping from the class. “A strong start! Well done, Miss Granger-Weasley! And Mr Potter, that was an incredibly bold opening move!” 

Al sits up with Rose’s help, hair even messier than before. His glasses sit askew on his nose and he rubs the back of his head. “Thanks, Professor.” He mumbles, before turning to his cousin with a smile bright enough to light up the room. “Great job, Rosie! Mum’ll be well pleased, you deflected her favourite hex!” 

“Don’t tell your mum and dad,” Rose mutters glumly. “Or my mum and dad. Merlin, dueling isn’t half as fun against family.” 

Al brushes down his jumper and claps Rose on the back, jolting her forward due to their considerable height difference. She leans up on the tips of her toes and ruffles his hair into further disarray, and they fall into stitches of laughter before parting ways, with Al returning to Scorpius’ side and Rose going back to her girls. Scorpius gives Al a commiserating pat on the shoulder. “Sorry.” He mumbles. 

“Don’t be,” Al shakes his head. “I didn’t expect anything less. Rose wants to be an auror after Hogwarts, like our dads, and she loves dueling.”

The rest of their class continues with much of the same, but thankfully Scorpius is able to escape without having to duel. Professor Kelly’s early morning rant took up a good portion of their class, and so a number of their class is spared the horror of a Tuesday morning duel. Following Defense, Scorpius and Al share Muggle Studies, whilst Rose splinters off for an all-Gryffindor History of Magic class. She bounds up to them before they go their separate ways, with Amélie Clearwater, Alice Longbottom, and Veronica Harvey close at her heels. Alice looks somewhat uncomfortable, but the other two girls are hiding their coy smiles poorly as they giggle to one another.

“I’ll see you two at lunch! Sorry again, Al- you’re not hurt, are you?” Rose asks, reaching out to hold Al by his shoulder, but he laughs and pulls her into a quick hug. 

“Don’t be daft!” He smiles, unashamedly showering her in his affection, as is the nature of the Potter-Weasley clan. In their earlier years at Hogwarts, Scorpius used to come back to their shared dormitories on an evening only to listen to Al complaining about classmates giving him grief for being affectionate with relatives, as if it was something to get embarrassed over. Now, no one would make fun of either Albus or Rose, or any of their siblings or cousins for showing public affection, not after James Potter had hexed a seventh year last January. 

“See you later Al!” Rose grinned up at her cousin, before releasing him and turning to Scorpius. Before she truly realised what she was doing, she’d already pulled Scorpius close and wrapped her arms around his middle. 

Scorpius blanks for approximately three seconds, before his cheeks betray him and his face lights up red, rivalling the trim of Rose’s robes. She stiffens as her mind catches up to her, but before she can pull away Scorpius awkwardly curls his arms around her shoulders in an attempt to play it off like this is something normal, something they always do, and not Rose acting on autopilot. 

“Goodbye, Rose,” Scorpius says, schooling his pitch as much as possible, but his voice definitely cracks at the beginning. Later, he’ll blame it on puberty, despite his voice breaking very noticeably and embarrassingly over the summer. 

Rose relaxes somewhat. Scorpius is no less nervous, not with Al’s scrutinous stare burning holes into the side of his head, and Rose’s friends’ animated half-whispers. “Bye, Scor!” Rose chirps, before disentangling herself from him, and returning to her friends who immediately bombard her with thinly veiled shrieks before they’ve even left the classroom. 

Al is still staring at Scorpius. “Mate,” he starts, slack-jawed and confused, trying to pull the pieces together in his head. “What was that?” He asks, gesturing to the space Rose had once occupied. “What was  _ that?  _ What’s  _ this?”  _ He gawks, getting up in his best friend’s space, prodding his burning cheek with his wand. 

“Nothing- I have no idea what you’re on about-” Scorpius scrambles, side-stepping Albus as he lunges for his bag, which lies abandoned at the back of the classroom. “See you in Muggle Studies!” He cries, before absolutely legging it out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the feedback last chapter! i'm feeling better about the whole present-tense thing now! 
> 
> i hope you're enjoying this so far! i'm thinking of having this run between 15-20 chapters, with another 3 or so chapters before Christmas? i'm a second-year university student, so pls bear with me!! lots of deadlines this term :'( 
> 
> also i hope the dialects in this story are realistic? i'm british, but i'm northern so emulating southerners is soemwhat difficult, as my regional dialect is closer to scots than anything, haha! 
> 
> hope you enjoyed this one, even tho it's short :) all kudos and comments are SUPER appreciated!! thank u :) 
> 
> hyperionne xx
> 
> P.S: would anyone be willing to beta read?? benefits include previews before chapters go live and getting to read my stuff earlier than usual!! if so, pls private message me on here, FF.net, or HPFF.com, or email leofe.ao3@gmail.com ! it would help me SO MUCH

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i'm hyperionne, and this is my introduction back into writing, and my first ever harry potter fic! i wanted to try and take a swing at my own characterisations of Scorpius and Rose, so maybe expect more? 
> 
> i like the idea of Scorpius being a bit stiff and repressed due to his sheltered and formal upbringing, who learns to become a bit more relaxed and spontaneous around Rose and Albus, and I like the idea of Rose being an absolute firecracker- because really, given her parents why wouldn't she be?? so many strong personalities in one house, and that's just the granger-weasleys!!!
> 
> please feed me with reviews, i hope you enjoy my take on Scorpius and Rose!
> 
> EDITS:   
> \- OCT. 7, 2020: Updated story description


End file.
